


try not to die

by Psilent (HereThereBeFic)



Series: catch your breath; there are no breaks [3]
Category: LazyTown
Genre: Dark, Gen, Hallucinations, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Magic, Number 9 Was Not Nice, Robbie Tries His Best Okay, glamour, ship as minimal background noise to plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-20
Updated: 2016-12-20
Packaged: 2018-09-10 14:42:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8921065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HereThereBeFic/pseuds/Psilent
Summary: Robbie showed his willingness to compromise by continuing to compromise, how much plainer could he get? What he didn't do was hover above the town in a voice-locked, maneuverable weapon, with a ladder only he could lower and only he didn't need. He didn't jump down out of the clouds and land on his feet and smile at people like that wasn't a threat.





	

**Author's Note:**

> this one got away from me a bit, uh. the good news (?) being that about half of what i initially had in mind just wasn't going to fit here, so there will be at least one more installment. thanks for reading!

Robbie's phone rang at just past two in the morning. He was already awake, but that was no reason not to be annoyed. He glared at it, waiting for whoever was on the other end to realize they'd dialed the wrong number.

It kept ringing.

Robbie rolled his eyes and then, not content with that, tipped his head back and gestured helplessly up at the cavern ceiling as if to say: _Did I not_ _ **tell**_ _him? Did I not_ _ **just**_ _tell him._

Of course it wasn't a wrong number. Of course it was the elf. Of course he hadn't _listened_.

Another ring.

Robbie steepled his fingers and contemplated his options.

_Ring._

On the one hand, it would be very easy to do nothing. Wait and see. Say he'd been asleep. Let the so-called hero learn a lesson in humility, if nothing else.

_Ring._

On the other hand, of course, he might die. Which would be... unfortunate. Whatever this little arrangement was that the two of them had stumbled into regarding this town, it –– well, it wasn't the _worst_ thing that could have happened. It wasn't _terrible_.

_Ring._

He shook his head and answered the phone. _The pink girl was right. I am a big softie. Ugh._

"Hello?" he said, just in case it _wasn't_ a panicking elf on the other end of the call.

"Help!" It was. He could even hear that annoying crystal blaring in the background.

Robbie pinched the bridge of his nose between forefinger and thumb. "Refresh my memory, what _exactly_ did I say to you, oh, _less than ten hours ago_?"

"I wasn't trying t–– it just–– I was–– _asleep_ –– it just–– it just–– _broke_ ––"

"Broke?" Robbie cut in, alarmed. "Completely?"

"I don't kn _nn_ ––" The elf's voice dissolved into a pained yowl that made the hair on the back of Robbie's neck stand up. "I ca–– I can't–– _help_ –– please–– _Robbie_ –– ladder!"

Ladder.

Oh.

He was going to have to go _up_. To the _ship_.

On the _ladder_.

Robbie's lip curled in disgust. Disgust, and definitely not fear. Not at all.

He hated that ladder and he hated that ship and he hated what they _meant_ , that was all. The elf complained that Robbie was 'needlessly cryptic' and 'deliberately obtuse' and ' _unnecessarily threatening_ ' when it came to communication and Robbie still hadn't decided which possibility was worse: that he genuinely didn't see the hypocrisy in this, or that he was very, very good at feigning obliviousness. Robbie showed his willingness to compromise by _continuing to compromise_ , how much plainer could he get? What he _didn't_ do was hover above the town in a voice-locked, maneuverable _weapon_ , with a ladder only he could lower and only he didn't need. He didn't jump down out of the clouds and land on his feet and _smile_ at people like that wasn't a threat.

 _You **are** going to owe me for this one_ , Robbie thought, but didn't say. No need to make this situation any more horrifically complicated than it already was.

"I'll be there in five minutes," he said instead. He just needed to gather a few things. Mostly his wits. "Try not to die. I'd hate to miss it."

* * *

The climb up the ladder was easier than he thought it would be. Mostly because he kept his mind firmly on all the horrible things that could go wrong once he was _inside_ the airship, instead of all the horrible things that definitely _would_ go wrong if he missed a rung.

He hauled himself up through the hatch and kicked uncertainly at a couple of buttons –– he'd been here a few times (for sabotage purposes or under protest) but he would never get used to the idea of an entire _floor_ as a control console. That was just asking for trouble.

He finally got the hatch to close, and, now that the possibility of falling hundreds of feet to his death was no longer looming, his senses fully honed in on the utter chaos he'd climbed into.

The crystal was lying wrapped in a familiar blue and white hat on the floor, beeping and flashing wildly. The hat was proving to be a less than effective barrier as the crystal continued to light up the ship's too-white interior in different colors at unnerving intervals.

The elf, hatless, was huddled against a wall between two closed panels, curled into a ball.

Robbie took a moment to fully consider the situation and really, truly hate that he was now a part of it. Then he took one step forward. "Something tells me you didn't actually need that thing to tell you you were in trouble."

All he received in response was a whimper.

Robbie sighed. "All right, Sportaflop, you said it _broke_? Out with it. What's the big secret?"

Another whimper. The elf curled into a tighter ball.

Okay. This was worse than he'd hoped for, but not worse than he'd anticipated. Time to bring out the big guns. "Sportacus," Robbie said quietly, and sat down next to him. "Hey. Say something."

He didn't. But he did uncurl just enough to raise his head, and Robbie again reevaluated: his eyes were screwed shut and his face was streaked with sweat or tears or both. No blood, at least.

Not yet.

" _Say_ something," Robbie prompted again.

"Busy," Sportacus snapped, and buried his face against his knees.

"'Busy,'" Robbie repeated. "Busy doing what, exactly?"

" _Busy_. Trying. Not. To _die_."

Ah. Robbie considered his next move carefully, decided there really was nothing else for it, and grabbed the elf by the hair, gently tilting his head back.

"What––"

"Shut up. Keep concentrating on the not dying thing." Carefully, Robbie maneuvered the elf's eyes open.

Silver. No distinction between pupil, iris, sclera. All silver.

"Okay," he breathed. "So it's exactly as bad as I hoped it wasn't."

"Silver?"

"Silver."

Sportacus let his head fall back against the wall, and muttered what Robbie made an educated guess was probably an Elvish blue streak.

"If that was profanity," he said, "and you live through this, you have to tell me what it meant."

Sportacus actually laughed. And then choked, shoving the heels of his hands against his brow and pushing like he'd love nothing more than for his own head to explode. "Deal," he gasped.

**Deal.**

So.

Time to get to work.

Robbie pushed off from the wall, crouching in front of the elf and taking hold of his wrists. "So it _was_ profanity," he said conversationally, methodically peeling off both gloves and bracers and trying to compare the veins under the wound site to the veins in the uninjured wrist. It was difficult, with the crystal still lighting the place up like a strobe.

"Maybe." Sportacus gulped down air. "Or maybe it wasn't, in which case I –– don't have to –– tell you."

"Conniving elf," Robbie muttered, on autopilot.

"You've got to –– be careful –– how you word these things."

"Yeah, yeah. I have good news; you're not any more _poisoned_ than you already were."

"Was that a possibility?"

"I have no idea." Robbie let go of his wrists. "It depends on exactly what kind of defenses he left on this one."

"Feel like I'm burning," Sportacus offered, gritting his teeth and clenching his hands together tightly. "Which seems to be –– a popular one."

And despite the circumstances, that actually caught Robbie's interest. "Broken a lot of glamours, have you?"

"A few."

"Huh. Well, me too, so apologies if I don't sound suitably impressed. Burning we can deal with. Hold still."

"Am I not?"

Robbie immediately quashed the fond smile that tried to tug at his face. "You're _twitching_."

"Sorry. Being on fire –– does that to me, I guess."

 _Shut up_ , Robbie thought, but didn't say. The longer he could keep the elf lucid and talking, the better. Even if it did make his job more difficult. "Really. I'd have thought you'd be used to it by now, if it's such a _popular_ glamour reinforcement."

He missed the reply, busy murmuring the familiar incantations and trying not to remember what it felt like –– every nerve screaming, heat so intense it was _cold_ , running up and down his limbs, his spine...

He shook his head. "Any better?"

Sportacus nodded minutely. "A little."

"What else?"

"Feels –– like a vice. Everywhere."

Huh. That was a new one. "Like you're being –– what, squeezed?"

"My bones," Sportacus said, voice hoarse. "Muscles. Skull. Everything. Yes. _Squeezed_."

"Well, that's not horrifying or anything." Great. He didn't have any go-to movements for that. He'd have to _improvise_ again. At least the wording for getting anything in general to _stop_ was easy enough, maybe he could combine the gestures for –– what, crushing? And pulling? Close enough. He hoped.

"Anything?"

"No."

Ugh. Of course not. Fine, then, he'd just... make something up. He was used to working under pressure.

At his third interpretation –– half-cupped hands slowly enveloping each other and gripping painfully tight –– the magic finally took. He could feel it.

He asked anyway, to keep the elf talking. "How about now?"

"Better," Sportacus rasped. "Thank you." He was still curled up in a ball.

Robbie frowned. "What else?"

"It's been –– it's ––" Sportacus sounded strangled. "Showing me. Things."

" _Things_? As in––"

"It's not revealing itself," Sportacus snapped. "It's showing me –– lies."

"'Lies,'" Robbie echoed. "What kind of –– _do not get up_!" He sprang forward, shoving hard at his shoulders, and was frankly alarmed when Sportacus actually fell and curled back up.

Robbie scrambled off of him, ready to leap again if need be. " _You_ are not out of the –– you haven't _reached_ the woods that you need to _get_ out of yet, you're up a mountain on the other _side_ of those woods, safety is through a _cave_ and over a _river_ and –– _very_ far away, do not _move_."

"Then how am I supposed to get down the mountain," Sportacus mumbled.

"What _mou_ –– forget the mountain, just. Sit still and tell me what the glamour is making you look at."

This was trickier stuff to safely banish. He couldn't just go pulling a continuous input of information out of someone's brain without at least some idea of what that information was.

"Lies," Sportacus hissed. "It has to be lies, it –– it's –– I just saw them, I just, _yesterday_ , they were _just_ ––"

Horror hit Robbie like a splash of cold water. "The kids?" he practically yelped, recoiling. "It's showing you –– bad things happening to the kids."

"Yes," Sportacus whispered. "It's –– I know it has to be –– I know this could never –– but it's so –– if you could _see_ it, Robbie, they're––"

"They're fine," Robbie said loudly, already throwing his hands into the counterspell motions. He'd see this one through _without_ the verbal component if that was what it took to keep the elf from giving him _details_. "The kids are _fine_ , like you said, you saw them yesterday."

"The crystal––"

"Is freaking out over  _you_. If anything had happened to those br––the kids, someone would have sent you a letter."

"Not if they don't _know_." With that, Sportacus leapt to his feet, catching Robbie mid-gesture and off-guard.

He made it a few stumbling steps into the middle of the room and then staggered just as Robbie lunged, swearing, and caught him.

Should have just let him fall. Moving was bad, moving was _very_ bad, because Robbie was suddenly _extremely_ aware of the fact that he was hundreds of feet up in a not-completely-stationary airship, at the mercy of things like _wind_ and _lightning_ and ––

–– and the elf was trying to _stand up again_.

"STOP!" Robbie more shrieked than ordered, starting to lose track of all the separately terrible things the universe was currently supplying him with to panic about.

Sportacus shoved him off and rolled away, jumping to his feet and heading straight for the––

"Door!"

" _No_!"

Robbie launched himself, wrapping his arms around the elf's legs and bringing him crashing to the floor inches away from the now open door.

"CLOSE IT!" Robbie screamed.

"I just –– want to check –– on the children!" Sportacus insisted, trying to kick him off. The fact that he apparently _couldn't_ spoke volumes.

"You are _hallucinating_ in the grip of _extremely powerful magic_ and you will _fall_ and _die_!"

"I just need to make sure they're okay!"

"You asked me for help!" Robbie snarled. "And I _climbed_ your terrifying ladder into your _ridiculous_ ship, so _let me help_!"

Sportacus started dragging both of them towards the open doorway.

In desperation, Robbie started shouting the verbal components of the counterspell. He knew it wouldn't work –– he'd started it _nonverbal_ , he hadn't set this up properly, couldn't even do the gestures without letting Sportacus go careening out into the open air ––

Sportacus _screamed_.

Okay. So he was probably making it worse. Robbie abandoned the counterspell altogether, hesitated for less than a second, and invoked a short burst of obedience. "Close the door!" he ordered.

"Door," Sportacus said, robotically. It flipped shut and Robbie dropped the invocation and shoved away from him, skin crawling.

They stared at each other.

"Sorry," they said, simultaneously.

Robbie might have laughed. But Sportacus's eyes were flashing, silver and normal, silver and normal, silver and _panicked_.

"Can you just," Sportacus said, gesturing vaguely at his own head. "Whatever you were doing. Before I..."

"Tried to kill us both?"

"I'll apologize again if _you_ do."

Robbie bit his tongue. "I can't talk while I'm doing this. And neither can you," he added sharply. "I need to concentrate."

"Okay."

"Just –– the kids are _fine_ , okay?"

"Okay," Sportacus whispered into the floor.

" _Okay_." Robbie set about starting the counterspell back up, this time with both components. He ignored the increasingly distressed noises coming from the elf in front of him. He ignored the slight tilt to the floor. He ignored the shaking in his own hands, until he couldn't, and then he redoubled his concentration until it stopped.

He felt the taut _snap_ of broken magic when it finally worked, though the crystal mercifully shutting up was also a bit of a hint. Robbie let himself fall back onto his hands. Fatigue was outrunning adrenaline now, catching up with him again. He'd been awake too long, and he hadn't planned on this. Not this _much_. Not so soon.

"How," he said hollowly, "do you just go around _saving_ people all the time? It's exhausting."

"It's not usually this intense," Sportacus said with a weak laugh, and then rolled over and started sobbing into his hands.

Robbie blinked. Oh. Okay.

It wasn't unreasonable, really, for a triple dose of glamour thrall reinforcement to culminate in a more mundane... episode. On the one hand, far less alarming in the long run. On the other hand, _yikes_. Not exactly Robbie's scene. Not this side of it, anyway.

Still. They were... what, allies? Rivals? Depending on the day? Something, always. They were... something. That probably meant he was supposed to _do_... something.

What, he wondered, would he want the other to do if their positions were reversed? _Leave_ , he thought instantly, and then, _Okay. So do the opposite of that._

Resigned, he crossed the floor and settled as comfortably as he could beside the shivering elf, hesitated for, it had to be said, significantly longer than he had when deciding to _magically bend him to his will_ , and laid a hand on his back.

"So, uh," he said, and cleared his throat. "Rough week, huh?"

"You could –– say that," Sportacus giggled, and then tried to muffle increasingly hysterical laughter against Robbie's leg.

Well, this wasn't _super_ _awkward_ or anything.

What was he supposed to do, just... just... sit here? For how long? Experimentally, he patted the elf's back. It didn't seem to actively make things worse, so he kept doing it. "Um. There, there...?"

More laughter. Technically a positive result. Sort of.

Eventually, he seemed to get it out of his system.

But.

They both just... stayed put. Unmoving. Robbie was acutely aware of every point of contact –– his hand had stilled on the elf's back, and Sportacus had seen fit to prop his head up on Robbie's thigh. For a long moment, neither of them spoke. Sportacus just... breathed, and Robbie wondered if he was falling asleep. Then he wondered if _he_ could fall asleep.

Probably not. Too easy.

"Thanks," Sportacus said at last, nearly inaudible, clearly tentative about breaking whatever silent truce they'd managed to strike.

Robbie sighed. "I'm altering the deal." Which was technically allowed, even after the fact. If both parties agreed.

"Okay," Sportacus said immediately. He sounded tired.

"Just," Robbie said, staring blankly at the wall. "Never tell me what you saw."

"Deal." Zero hesitation.

"Did it at least work?"

Sportacus sat up. The sudden loss of contact left Robbie off balance.

They looked at each other.

"Yes," Sportacus whispered. And then, "Sort of."

Robbie tilted his head. Didn't feel like wasting energy on words that could be conveyed just as easily through such a simple movement: _go on_.

Sportacus sighed. A world-weary sound. Deeply unsettling, considering the source. "I'm free of it. But it's still there."

"So you know––"

" _Don't_." Sportacus actually launched himself across the minimal space between them, clamping a hand over Robbie's mouth. "Don't talk about it, don't _think_ about it. I am an _elf_ , Robbie, and you saw what it did to _me_ when I wasn't even _trying_ to break it."

Robbie could only stare, brain short-circuiting until Sportacus finally took his hand away, looking embarrassed.

"Sorry. Just. Really, _don't_. If we try this in –– a week or two, like you said, when I'm up to my full strength, then I should be able to help you break out of it. On purpose. It wouldn't be... like this."

"And then the rest of them?"

Sportacus looked away. "If... If we can find a way to do it safely, yes."

Robbie's head was spinning. "And in the meantime?"

Sportacus shrugged. "Just try not to think about it."

"Right," Robbie said morosely, absently touching a hand to his own mouth and then snapping it away when he realized what he was doing. He grimaced. "I'm great at not thinking about things."

**Author's Note:**

> have you ever heard the sound of far too many italicized words in one story
> 
> _would you like to_


End file.
